COCAINE-^  Play  in  One 

Act  by  Pendleton  King— being 

Number    f7  of  the    Provincetown 
Plays 


New  York     FRANK     SHAY      Publisher 


COCAINE 


COCAINE 

A     PL  A Y    IN     ONE     ACT 

By  PENDLETON  KING 


NEW  YORK 

FRANK  SHAY,  Publisher 

1917 


COCAINE 


was  first  produced  by  the  Provincetown  Players 
with  the  following  cast 


JOE Eugene  Lincoln 

NORA  -  Ida  Rauh 


Produced  under  the  direction  of  Margaret  Wycherly. 

Scene  designed  and  executed  by  Ira  Remsen 
and  Carroll  Berry. 


Copyright  1917,  by  FRANK  SHAY 


The  professional  and  amateur  stage  rights  on  this  play  are 
reserved  by  the  author.  Permission  to  produce  COCAINE 
should  be  made  to  the  author,  care  The  Provincetown  Play 
ers,  139  MacDouial  Street,  New  York. 


COCAINE 


rHE  action  takes  place  in  an  attic  bedroom  on  Grand  Street,  betwee 
Allen  and  the  Bowery,  in  the  late  summer  of   1916,  and  occupies 
the  time  between  jour  o'clock  a.  m.  and  daylight.    The  ceiling  slopes 
down  at  the  back  to  within  a  few  feet  of  the  floor.     There  is  a  dormert 
window  in  a  recess  at  back.       Door  left  centre,  bed  at  right  of  window, 
table  left,  bureau  down  left,  trunk  down  right,  chair  at  foot  of  bed.     The 
room  w  in  terrible  disorder  and  confusion,  faintly  seen  in  the  glare  from 
open  window  as  curtain  rises. 

Joe  is  discovered  lying  on  the  bed  asleep,  snoring  gently,  dressed  in 
undershirt  and  trousers.  He  is  good  looking,  powerfully  built,  twenty-four 
years  old. 

Nora  comes  in  and  lights  a  candle  on  the  bureau.  She  is  a  wistful 
looking  girl  of  thirty. 

JOE.    Nora,  's  'at  you? 

NORA.    I  didn't  mean  to  wake  you  up.     Go  on  back  to  sleep. 

JOE.    I  haven't  been  asleep.     What  time  is  it? 

NORA.     [Takes  off  hat.}     About  four  o'clock. 

JOE.    You're  pretty  late. 

NORA.     [Takes  off  jacket.]     Had  to  walk  from  uptown. 

JOE.     How  far  uptown? 

NORA.  O,  way  up  town.  I  let  a  crowd  shake  me  like  a  fool.  [Sits  in 
chair  at  foot  of  bed  and  fans  hereslf.]  And  didn't  have  sense  enough  to 
get  carfare.  Whew !  You  don't  realize  how  hot  you  are  till  you  sit  down. 

JOE.     Poor  kid. 

NORA.  You  must  have  had  the  gas  lighted  to  make  it  as  hot  as  this 
in  here.  Lord,  I'm  so  glad  to  get  home. 

JOE  [gently].    You  didn't  bring  in — nothing? 

NORA.  Not  a  cent,  Joe.  [Gets  up  and  goes  to  bureau.]  I  don't  know 
what's  the  matter  with  me.  [Looks  in  glass.]  It's  that  darn  fever  blister. 
If  I  had  only  had  sense  enough  to  get  some  camphor  that  first  day. 

JOE.    But  it's  most  well  now.     Can't  hardly  notice  it  any  more. 

NORA.  Of  course  it's  perfectly  well.  There  won't  be  a  trace  of  it 
tomorrow.  I  oughtn't  to  have  tried  to  go  out  those  two  days  the  first  of 
the  week  when  it  was  so  bad.  Everybody  was  afraid  of  me  and  it  made 
me  feel  like  a  leper.  I  lost  my  grip  in  some  way  and  now  I  can't  get  it 


383531 


6  THE    PROVINCETOWN    PLAYS 

back.  It  all  depend:  on  yourself.  [Picks  up  candle.]  If  you're  sure  of 
yourself  you  have  luck;  if  you  aren't,  you  don't.  That's  all  there  is  to  it. 
[Crosses  with  candle,  which  she  puts  down  on  trunk.]  If  I'd  had  a  wee 
bit  of  a  sniff  tonight  I'd  have  got  some  money  out  of  that  crowd.  [Sits 
on  foot  of  the  bed.]  But  drinks  don't  brace  me  up  somehow. 

JOE.    Hum.  'sright. 

NORA.  Poor  old  boy.  Have  you  been  lying  here  all  night  in  this  heat 
waiting  for  me?  It's  hard  luck  on  you,  Joe.  O,  I  thought  I'd  go  crazy 
tonight.  My  nerves  are  just  all  to  pieces.  I  did  think  I  was  going  to 
get  some  money  this  time. 

JOE.    Why  don't  you  take  your  clothes  off  and  come  on  to  bed. 

NORA.  [Gets  up  and  takes  a  packet  of  cigarettes  out  of  her  jacket.]  I 
swiped  these  for  you,  anyway.  Here.  [Throws  him  the  box.] 

JOE.     [Catching  it.]     Gee!    Ta! 

NORA.  Joe,  I  wish  you  wouldn't  say  "Ta."  [Goes  up  into  recess.]  I 
don't  know  why  I  hate  it  so.  [She  begins  to  undress.] 

JOE.  All  right,  Missis.  [Gets  up  to  light  his  cigarette  with  the  candle.] 
Common  stuff,  uhm? 

NORA.  [Undressing.]  No,  it  doesn't  matter.  I'm  just  nervous  and 
irritable.  Don't  pay  any  attention  to  anything  I  say.  If  I  don't  get  some 
money  tomorrow  I  just  don't  know  what  I'll  do.  It's  terrible  to  be  so 
dependent  on  anything  as  that. 

JOE.     [Lies  down  again.]     Four  days. 

NORA.    No,  tonight's  Saturday. 

JOE.  Well,  that's  four  days,  ain't  it?  We  finished  up  that  last  deck 
Tuesday  night. 

NORA.  That's  right.  I  wouldn't  have  believed  I  could  go  so  long. 
I  don't  see  how  you  stand  it,  Joe,  all  night  like  this,  doing  nothing. 

JOE.  I  been  out.  Don't  worry  about  me.  I  can  git  on  widout  de 
stuff — for  awhile. 

NORA.  [Comes  down  in  kimono.]  I  can't.  [Takes  cigarette.]  But 
then  I've  been  using  it  so  much  longer  than  you  have.  [Lights  cigarette  at 
the  candle.] 

JOE.  I  been  goin'  it  some  little  time — a  month  or  so  before  we  took 
up  together  last  summer. 

NORA.  To  think.  [Sits  on  bed.]  Only  a  year.  I  wonder  what  would 
have  become  of  you  if  I  hadn't  found  you? 

JOE.  What  becomes  of  all  de  other  poor  bastards  who  gets  knocked 
out  and  can't  get  back  in  de  ring?  I  don't  know. 

NORA.  That's  the  trouble  with  you  boys.  You  are  brought  up  with 
only  one  idea,  to  fight,  and  if  anything  does  happen  to  you,  you're  not  fit 
to  do  anything  else.  You're  only  twenty-four,  and  you're  done. 


COCAINE  7 

JOE.    Be  twenty-four  in  October,  I  guess. 

NORA.  Lord,  it  makes  me  feel  so  old.  That's  how  you  stand  the 
strain  the  way  you  do.  You  are  as  firm  and  strong  as  you  ever  were, 
and  look  at  me. 

JOE.  Well,  if  a  fellow  has  to  do  as  much  trainin'  as  I  used  to,  he 
more  or  less  keeps  in  condition,  I  guess. 

NORA.  [Lies  down  beside  him.]  I  feel  so  old,  and  tired,  and  discour 
aged,  Joe.  If  I  didn't  have  you  I  don't  think  I'd  go  on  with  it. 

JOE.     [Tightens  his  arm  about  her.]     I'm  stickin'  to  you,  see. 

NORA.  I  never  thought  of  your  leaving  me.  [She  puts  her  arm  up 
about  his  head  and  strokes  his  hair.]  I  love  you  too  much,  Joe.  I  love 
you  more  than  anybody  else  will  ever  love  you  if  you  live  to  be  a  thousand 
years  old. 

JOE.    I  don't  reckon  anybody'd  love  me  much  if  I  was  that  old. 

NORA.  [Laughs.]  I  should.  But  you're  only  a  baby  now.  A  little 
old  infant.  [She  snuggles  up  to  him  and  presses  her  cheek  to  his.]  Joe? 

JOE.    Urn? 

NORA.  [In  a  whisper.]  My  darling.  [He  gathers  her  closer.  Long 
pause.] 

JOE.    Tired,  kid? 

NORA.  No,  not  now.  I  get  strength  from  you.  You've  got  plenty  of 
strength  for  both  of  us,  haven't  you?  Um? 

JOE.  It's  funny,  ain't  it,  for  a  girl  like  you  to  take  up  wid  a  rough 
guy  like  me,  dat  ain't  never  knowd  nothin'  but  how  to  get  his  heart  put 
on  the  blink.  Dope  brings  funny  people  together. 

NORA.    Not  so  funny. 

JOE.  You  needn't  tell  me,  Kid.  I  may  be  nothing  but  a  prizefighter, 
but  I  can  tell  a  lady  when  I  see  one.  And  besides,  you  won't  even  own 
up  to  it.  That's  a  sure  sign. 

NORA.  [Laughs.]  Not  a  very  fine  kind  of  a  lady.  I've  told  you  all 
about  myself.  I  did  work  on  the  Evening  Sun,  and  before  that  I  used  to 
live  on  a  farm  in  Kentucky.  That's  all  there  is. 

JOE.  Well,  that's  what  you  say.  I  don't  want  you  to  tell  me  nothing 
you  don't  want  to.  [Moves  his  position  slightly.]  Are  you  all  right? 

NORA.    Yes. 

JOE.    I  got  something  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about.  We're  up  against  it. 

NORA.  I  know  we  are.  And  yet  I  can  lie  here  like  this  and  it  doesn't 
seem  possible  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  trouble  in  the  world.  It  is  so 
serene  to  lie  still,  and  just  stroke  your  hair.  I  don't  want  ever  to  move 
again.  I  can  feel  your  heart  beating.  Do  you  feel  how  much  faster  mine 
is  going  than  yours? 


THE    PROVINCETOWN    PLAYS 

JOE.    Yeah. 

[The  sound  of  the  Elevated  is  heard.} 

NORA.  The  Elevated  sounds  like  wind.  Like  a  spirit  that  can't 
rest.  The  spirit  of  the  city,  that  goes  on  and  on  day  and  night  and 
never  stops  and  never  will  stop,  no  matter  what  becomes  of  you  and  me. 
But  when  I  am  lying  close  to  you  like  this,  touching  you,— there's  a 
sort  of  electric  current  that  radiates  from  you  all  over  because  you're 
so  alive.  What  was  I  going  to  say?  What  was  I  talking  about? 

JOE.    You  was  talking  about  the  El. 

NORA.  Yes.  I  was  going  to  say  while  I  am  lying  close  to  you 
like  this  it  all  seems  so  far  away,  doesn't  it?  It  is  like  lying  snug  in  bed 
and  listening  to  the  sea.  There  may  be  death  and  storms  and  shipwrecks 
and  things  out  there,  but  they're  far  away.  They  can  never  touch  us. 

JOE.  I  wisht  we  could  get  a  good  old  sniff,  and  forget  our  troubles 
right. 

NORA.  Poor  old  Joe.  [Raises  up  and  sits  on  the  side  of  the  bed 
again.]  I  declare  I  thought  I  would  go  crazy  tonight;  I  haven't  got  a 
nerve  left  in  my  body.  I  wanted  to  know  what  you  were  doing.  I 
thought  all  sorts  of  fool  things.  I  could  picture  you  getting  desperate  and 
breaking  in  somewhere  and  getting  locked  up,  and  I  don't  know  what. 

JOE.    I  could  have  got  some  stuff  tonight,  at  that. 

NORA.    What  do   you   mean?     How?     Who? 

JOE.    The  landlady.     She  was  up  here  talking  to  me  about  it. 

NORA.  When  she  knows  how  broke  we  are?  We  owe  her  two 
weeks'  rent. 

JOE.    No,  I  guess  she  would  have  give  me  some. 

NORA.     How  do  you   mean,  Joe? 

JOE.     You  know. 

NORA.  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  woman  has  been  up  here  after 
you  again?  [Her  eyes  narrow.]  I  knew  something  was  the  matter. 
Did  you What  did  you  tell  her? 

JOE.  Told  her  to  get  to  hell  out  of  here.  What  do  you  think  I 
told  her?  I  said  I  was  off  de  stuff. 

NORA.     [Buries  her  head  in  his  shoulder.]     O,  Joe. 

JOE.  Well,— I  didn't  want  it  so  bad  then.  She  come  up  here  when 
she  heard  me  come  in,  about  twelve  o'clock,  and  put  it  up  to  me. 

NORA.  [Desperate.]  If  we  had  any  other  place  on  earth  we  could 
go,  I  would  have  got  out  of  this  house  the  night  you  told  me  she  first 
came  up  here  and  bothered  you.  But  we  couldn't  get  another  place. 
She'd  hold  our  things  until  we  paid  her.  And  I  haven't  got  a  dollar  to 
deposit  on  a  room.  I  suppose  she  knows  all  that. 


COCAINE  9 

JOE.  That's  what  I  got  to  talk  to  you  about.  She's  going  to  kick 
us  out. 

NORA.    Kick  us  out? 

JOE.    That's  what  she  says.     Unless — 

NORA.    Unless  what? 

JOE.  Well, — you  know —  I  been  thinking  pretty  hard  and 
figurin'  on  puttin'  it  up  to  you,  if  you  think  it's  worth  while — just  to 
keep  the  room  on  and  have  a  place  to  sleep.  You  see 

NORA.    What  are  you  talking   about? 

JOE.  Well, — I  think  the  old  lady's  reasonable.  She  come  up  here 
and  made  a  big  fuss  over  me  and  said  she  was  gone  on  me  and  all  that 
stuff,  and  I  was  staying  on  in  her  house  and  not  paying  no  rent  and 
everything,  and — if  I  was  too  good  for  her  I'd  have  to  get  out  of  her 
house,  that's  all.  That  was  after  she  offered  me  the  dope. 

NORA.    Joe,  am  I  mad  or  what  are  you  talking  about? 

JOE.    Well— 

NORA.     Never  let  me  hear  that  again.     Do  you  think  I'd  let  you 

JOE.    Well,  I  let  you,  don't  I? 

NORA.  That's  altogether  a  different  matter.  Don't  ever  let  me  hear 
that  again,  do  you  understand?  I  can't  argue  about  it.  [Gets  up  and 
crosses  to  bureau.]  God,  it's  hot  in  here ! 

JOE.  [Swings  his  feet  out  and  sits  on  the  side  of  the  bed.  Kindly:] 
Now  look  here,  kid.  [Stands  a  moment  and  goes  over  to  her.]  I  got  to 
live,  ain't  I?  You  are  the  swellest  little  girl  any  fellow  ever  had  and 
all  that,  and  I'm  awful  fond  of  you,  but  we  got  to  live.  We  got  to 
do  something.  We  got  to  get  some  money  some  way.  If  we  can't  get 
on — the  way  we  been  gettin'  on,  then  I  got  to  shift  for  myself,  see? 
[Takes  her  by  the  shoulders.]  I'm  puttin'  it  up  to  you  square,  because 
I'm  goin'  to  be  straight  with  you. 

NORA.  Of  course  we've  got  to  do  something.  I'll  do  something. 
I'll  get  some  money.  You  don't  understand  what  you  are  saying.  If 
it  were  the  last  night  we'd  ever  spend  under  a  roof  it  wouldn't  alter 
the  question. 

JOE.  [Turns  back  to  the  bed.]  By  God,  it  looks  like  it  is  the  last 
night,  with  the  luck  you're  having.  [He  sits  and  leans  his  chin  on  his 
right  hand,  gazing  at  the  candle.]  If  I  was  able  to  do  any  kind  of 
work  it'd  be  different.  But  de  stuff's  got  me  I  guess.  I  couldn't  no  more 
stick  to  any  kind  of  a  job  than  I  could  fly.  You  reckon  if  I  was  able 
to  get  back  in  the  ring  I'd  have  you  working?  But  we're  up  against  it, 
that's  all.  As  long  as  you  can  bring  in  the  money — all  right.  But  you 
ain't  having  any  luck,  and  I  just  got  to  do  it,  that's  all.  If  I'm  willing 
for  you  to  go  out  every  night,  I  don't  see  why  you  kick  on  one  old 
measly  landlady. 


10  THE  PROVINCE-TOWN   PLAYS 

NORA.  But  Joe.  You  don't  understand.  [Crosses  to  bed.}  Listen 
to  me.  [Sits  beside  him.]  You  don't  love  me  the  way  I  do  you.  It  isn't 

your  fault.    It's  the  way  you're  made.    I  can — go  out,  as  you  call  it 

It's  a  sort  of  sacrifice  to  you,  a  sort  of  way  of  showing  how  much  I 
love  you.  It  doesn't  matter  about  me.  You  are  the  clean  part  of  me. 
You  are  the  part  I  live  for.  And  you  are  sacred,  do  you  understand? 
Clean. 

JOE.  [Still  gazing  at  candle.]  Sure,  I  get  you.  [Nora  slips  down 
on  one  knee  and  buries  her  face  against  his  arm.]  And  I've  always  been 
straight  with  you.  I  think  a  whole  lot  more  of  you  than  you  think. 

NORA.     Go  on.    Say  you  love  me.    I  love  to  hear  you  say  it. 

JOE.  [Puts  his  left  arm  about  her.]  I  love  you  all  right.  And  I'll 
stick  to  you.  But  we  got  to  live,  ain't  we?  We  got  to  get  some  money 
some  way.  And  if  you  can't  get  it,  I  got  to.  That's  if  we're  going  to 
stick  together. 

NORA.  No,  you  haven't,  Joe.  I'd  rather  be  dead.  [Raises  up.] 
I'll  starve  to  death  before  I'll  see  you  do  that,  and  let  you  starve  to  death. 
[Gets  up.]  The  horrible  old  slut.  I  think  I'll  kill  her.  [Goes  up  into 
alcove  and  looks  out  of  window.] 

JOE.  O,  we  can  get  out  of  here  if  you  want  to.  It  don't  have  to  be 
her.  There's  more'n  one  way  of  pickin'  up  money  round  this  town. 

NORA.     [Turns   toward  him.]     What   do   you   mean? 

JOE.  I  guess  you  must  know.  It's  the  only  way  I  see.  I  ain't  got 
nothing  but  my  looks. 

NORA.     [Turns   back   to   window.]     Joe,  don't  talk  like  that,  please. 

JOE.  [Kindly.]  We  got  to,  kid.  We're  up  against  it.  I'm  going 
to  be  fair  with  you,  that  thing  you  got  on  your  mouth  ain't  going  to  get 
well  so  as  you  can't  see  it  for  two  or  three  days  yet.  We  get  kicked  out 
of  here  today.  What  the  hell  can  we  do?  Sleep  in  the  park?  I  guess 
not.  Not  while  I  got  a  way  to  make  easy  money.  Why,  kid,  I  wisht 
you'd  see  the  number  of  'em  tries  to  speak  to  me  every  time  I  go  out. 
It's  easy,  I  tell  you.  And  there's  good  money  in  it.  I  don't  like  to  talk 
about  it — 'specially  with  you — but  we  got  to — if  we're  going  to  stick  to 
gether.  We  can  get  a  nice  room  somewheres  and  keep  a  little  stuff  on 
hand  all  the  time.  I  ain't  going  to  leave  you.  But  I  gotta  have  de 
stuff,  that's  all.  [Lies  down  on  the  bed  and  turns  toward  the  wall.] 
I've  gone  without  it  four  days  now. 

NORA.  [Comes  down  and  crosses  to  trunk.]  You  are  a  strange  boy. 
[Sits  on  end  of  trunk  facing  him.]  Can't  you  see  that  you  are  the  only 
thing  I've  got  left  in  the  world? 

JOE.    But  I  ain't  leaving  you,  I  tell  you. 

NORA.    Don't    you    understand    that    I    found   you    when    you    were 


COCAINE  11 

down  and  out,  done  for?     That  you  belong  to  me?     I  saved  you  from 
this  very  thing,  I  suppose,  a  year  ago.     Don't  you  see,  darling? 

JOE.  [Turns  on  his  back.]  But  I'm  not —  Gees,  Nora,  can't 

you  listen  to  me?  I  don't  want  to  do  it,  kid,  but  we  got  to,  to  live. 

NORA.  But  don't  you  understand  that  I  wouldn't  touch  you  with  a 
ten  foot  pole  afterwards?  Don't  you  see  that? 

JOE.  [Turning  back  in  a  huff.]  Of  course,  if  you  feel  that  way 
about  it,  we  can  bust  up,  's  far  as  that  goes.  If  you  don't  think  no  more 
about  me  than  that. 

NORA.     [Stands   up   against   the   wall.    Right.]     Don't,   Joe. 

JOE.  [Sits  up  in  bed.]  I've  always  been  straight  with  you.  I've 
treated  you  right  all  the  way,  and  I'm  trying  to  stick  by  you.  But  of 
course,  if  that's  the  way  you  feel  about  it,  all  right.  I  got  to  live,  ain't  I? 

NORA.    No. 

JOE.    What  do  you  mean  no? 

NORA.    I  don't  see  any  reason  why  we  should  live. 

JOE.    Well,   I'm   going   to   live. 

NORA.  [Sits  down  on  bed  and  tries  to  turn  him  towards  her.]  Joe, 
my  darling,  listen  to  me.  You've  been  a  wonderful  boy  and  I  love  you 
as  very  few  people  have  ever  been  loved  in  this  world.  Because  I  had 
lost  everything,  you  see,  when  I  found  you,  everything.  I  had  thrown 
everything  away.  And  you've  had  to  be  the  whole  world  for  me  since. 
The  whole  world,  you  see.  There  isn't  anything  else.  When  the  dope 
got  me  I  just  went  down  because  I  didn't  care  about  anything.  I  gave 
up  my  job  and  just  let  myself  slide.  I  intended  to  kill  myself  when  my 
money  gave  out,  and  I  didn't  even  care  how  much  I  had  left.  Then  I  found 
you  that  night  at  Mitchell's  place. 

JOE.     [Turns   on   his   back.]     I   remember. 

NORA.  [Puts  her  head  down  on  his  chest.]  You  can't  remember 
much.  I  can't  bear  to  think  even  now  how  you  were  beat  up.  But  you 
were  so  full  of  it  you  didn't  know  your  arm  was  broken. 

JOE.  That's  right.  I  think  it  was  broke  about  two  days  before  that. 
I  remember  when  it  went. 

NORA.  And  since  then,  Joe,  we've  had  a  wonderful  time.  Do  you 
remember  when  we  used  to  have  to  sleep  under  the  Bridge?  I  love  that 
old  Bridge  now  because  it's  associated  in  my  mind  with  you. 

JOE.    We  had  a  good  time,  all  right. 

NORA.     [Straightens  up.] 

"But  now  the  white  sails  of  our  ship  are  furled, 
"And  spent  the  lading  of  our  argosy." 
We've  come  to  the  end  of  our  tether,  Joe. 

JOE.    Um. 


12  THE  PROVINCETOWN   PLAYS 

NORA.    What  do  you  say  we  don't  go  on  with  it? 
JOE.    What  do  you  mean  don't  go  on  with  it? 
NORA.    Turn  on  the  gas. 

JOE.  [Sits  up.]  Nix!  What  are  you  gettin'  at?  [Lies  down.] 
Not  for  mine. 

NORA.  Joe,  we've  had  such  a  wonderful  time.  We've  known  every 
thing  there  is  to  know  in  the  world  worth  knowing.  Don't  let's  go  down 
hill.  We've  reached  the  top.  Let's  let  this  be  the  end.  I  can't  keep  you 
any  longer  and  have  got  to  let  you  go.  And  I  won't  do  it,  that's  all. 

JOE.  [Sits  up  and  props  himself  against  the  head  of  the  bed  incredu 
lously.]  You  must  be  kiddin'.  Aw,  come  on. 

NORA.  [Quietly.]  I  never  was  more  serious  in  my  life.  I  can't 
go  on  with  it,  and  I  won't  leave  you  behind  to  live  without  me.  It's 
you  that  I  love,  the  little  strange  spirit  that  makes  you  you,  and  different 
to  everybody  else  that  ever  lived.  If  you  go  on  you  are  going  to  destroy 
that.  Then  you  won't  be  you,  and  I  won't  love  you  any  more.  Think. 
This  may  be  the  last  night  we'll  ever  spend  together — the  last  chance 
we'll  have.  Let's  turn  it  on  now.  No  telling  [she  turns  front]  what'll 
happen  in  the  daylight  tomorrow.  I  can't  wait  to  face  it. 

JOE.    I  don't  want  to,  kid.     It  aint'  right  to  kill  yourself. 

NORA.    Are  you  afraid  to  die? 

JOE.    Sure  I'm  not  afraid  to  die. 

NORA.    What  have  you  got  to  live  for? 

JOE.    Well — a  lot  of  things,  I  guess. 

NORA.  Joe,  you've  slipped.  You've  slipped  away  further  than  I 
thought.  The  stuff's  got  you  sure  enough.  You've  slipped  further  than  I 
have. 

JOE.    I  guess  not.    I'm  not  so  bad  off  at  that. 

NORA.  [Slightly  hysterical.]  You're  pretty  bad  off,  Joe.  Don't  you 
see  that  your  life  is  finished.  You  are  nothing.  You  are  less  than  nothing. 
What  you  really  are  is  the  lowest  thing  that  can  be  on  earth,  and  here  you 
talk  calmly  about — something  even  worse.  There's  no  reason  for  you  to 
go  on  living — except  your  fear  of  death. 

JOE.    I'm  not  afraid  of  dying,  I  tell  you. 

NORA.  [Rising.]  Well,  let  me  turn  on  the  gas  then.  I'm  not  afraid. 
Look  at  me.  Think  of  the  trouble  it  takes  to  live.  Think  of  the  effort 
to  keep  yourself  going  on  and  on,  like  a  rat  in  a  trap.  And  when  you 
lose  me  you'll  just  slip  and  slip.  And  you've  got  to  die  in  the  end  anyhow. 
And  when  you're  dead  it  won't  make  any  difference  to  you  how  long  you 
lived.  It  will  be  just  as  if  you'd  never  been  born. 

JOE.     [Sits  up  and  follows  her  with  his  eyes.]     I  don't  get  you. 


COCAINE  13 

NORA.  O,  I  just  can't  face  the  daylight  again,  Joe.  I'm  too  tired. 
Aren't  you  tired?  What  will  become  of  you  without  me  to  take  care  of 
you?  [She  is  edging  towards  the  gas  jet  in  the  alcove.] 

JOE.    I  don't  know. 

NORA.  Let's  turn  on  the  gas.  Then  we  won't  have  to  wake  up  in 

the  morning  and  be  bothered.  And  you  can't  tell— maybe But  I 

believe  you're  scared. 

JOE.  [Lies  down  and  turns  face  to  the  wall  petulantly.]  Aw,  turn 
on  your  god  damned  gas.  I'll  show  you  whether  I'm  scared. 

NORA.     [In  an  excited  whisper.]     O,  Joe. 

[She  closes  the  window  and  hangs  an  old  skirt  over  it,  turns  on  the 
gas  jet  and  the  gas  stove  on  the  table,  then  comes  down  on  tip  toe,  trem 
bling,  and  blows  out  the  candle  on  the  trunk.  The  stage  is  completely^ 
dark.] 

JOE.    Did  you  turn  it  on? 

NORA.     [Gets  back  into  the  bed.}     Yes.    The  stove,  too. 

JOE.     How  long  will  it  take? 

NORA.  Not  long  I  think.  I  don't  know.  Don't  let's  talk  about  it. 
Joe,  do  you  think  I've  got  the  right  to  take  you  with  me? 

JOE.    With  you?     Where? 

NORA.  Now.  Like  this.  But  I  couldn't  bear  for  anybody  else  to 
have  you,  Joe. 

JOE.    Gee,  you're  tremblin'.    I  believe  you're  scared  now. 

NORA.    I'm  not  scared.     I'm  just  happy. 

JOE.    Happy  ? ! 

NORA.    I   thought  I'd   lost   you,   Joe. 

JOE.  Um.  [Very  long  pause.]  This  is  a  tough  thing  to  do,  all  right, 
kid.  You  reckon  they'll  put  it  in  the  papers? 

NORA.    I  expect  so. 

JOE.  Will  they  put  in  much?  They'll  be  sure  to  find  out  who  we 
was.  You  got  letters  and  stuff  in  the  trunk. 

NORA.  We  weren't  anybody  much.  I  expect  they've  forgotten 
about  us. 

JOE.    Aw.     They  got  to  put  it  in  the  papers. 

NORA.  They'll  put  in  something.  Please  don't  let's  talk  about  it. 
Joe? 

JOE.    Um? 

NORA.     [In  a  whisper.]     My   darling. 

[Long  pause.] 

JOE.     [With  a  tremor  in  his  voice.]     I  don't  smell  no  gas. 


14  THE  PROVINCETOWN   PLAYS 

NORA.    It  hasn't  had  time  yet.    Maybe  we  won't  smell  it. 

JOE.  Gee,  we  got  to  smell  it.  [The  bed  creaks.]  I  don't  smell 
nothing  way  down  here. 

NORA.  Just  wait  and  you  will.  It's  only  been  on  a  minute.  O,  Joe, 
come  on  back  here.  We've  only  got  such  a  little  while. 

JOE.  I'm  going  to  see  what's  the  matter.  Gimme  a  match.  [The 
bed  creaks  as  he  gets  out.] 

NORA.  For  heaven's  sake!  Don't  strike  a  match!  Might  be  an 
explosion ! 

JOE.  It  can't  blow  up  if  you  can't  smell  it.  [He  finds  matches  on 
the  trunk  and  crosses  to  centre  stage.]  I  can  smell  it  over  here.  [Strikes 
a  match  to  the  gas  burner,  which  lights  in  a  feeble  blue  flame.]  Gees, 
the  meter's  run  out  on  us. 

NORA.     [Sits  up  in  bed]     The  meter?     But  it  can't  have  run  out. 
[A  wave  of  terror  comes  over  her.]     Have  you  been  using  the  gas  nights? 
JOE.    Not  but  very  little. 

NORA.  But  that's  ridiculous.  I  haven't  got  a  quarter  to  put  in  it. 
What  can  we  do? 

JOE.    Nothin' — 'less  we  had  a  quarter. 

NORA.     [Laughs.]     But  that's  ridiculous.    We've  got  to  do  something. 

JOE.    Naw,  I  guess  not. 

NORA.    But,  Joe—    — !!! 

JOE.  [With  a  note  of  relief  in  his  voice].  Naw,  I  guess  it  wasn't 
meant  for  us  to  kick  out  tonight,  kid.  [Gently.]  Let's  get  the  window 
open. 

[He  takes  down  the  old  skirt  and  opens  the  window.    The  dawn  has 
come  up  outside.] 
Gee,  it's  daylight. 

[CURTAIN.] 


THE  PROVINCETOWN  PLAYS 

A  record  of  the  work  of  the  most  serious  and  im 
portant  of  all  the  new  theatre  movements  in  America. 
Heywood  Broun,  dramatic  critic  of  the  New  York 
Tribune,  calls  three  plays  of  the  Provincetown  Play 
wrights  the  most  notable  contribution  of  the  year  to 
American  drama. 

First  Series: 

Bound  East  for  Cardiff.    By  Eugene  G.  O'Neill. 

The  Game.    By  Louise  Bryant. 

King  Arthur's  Socks.     By  Floyd  Dell.        .    .    .50 

Second  Series: 

Suppressed  Desires.     By  George  Cram  Cook  and 
Susan  Glaspell 35 

Third  Series: 

The  Two  Sons.    By  Neith  Boyce. 

Lima  Beans.    By  Alfred  Kreymborg. 

Before  Breakfast.    By  Eugene  G.  O'Neill.      .    .50 

Fourth  Series: 

Sauce  for  the  Emperor.     By  John  Chapin 

Mosher 25 

Fifth  Series: 

Cocaine.    By  Pendleton  King 35 

Sixth  Series: 

The  People.    By  Susan  Glaspell 35 

The  plays  are  almost  uniformly  interesting,  at  least 
to  read.  There  is  nothing  amateur  about  their  lit 
erary  qualities.  They  talk  well.  And  far  from  being 
foreign  scum,  they  are,  of  course,  all  strictly  home 
made.  In  fact,  so  far  as  this  particular  "little 
theatre"  group  goes,  the  members  seem  not  only  to 
write  their  own  plays,  but  to  act  them  and  applaud 
them  as  well.  They  are  the  Sinn  Feiners  ("our 
selves")  of  the  theatrical  world.— AT.  Y.  Globe. 

Other  Volumes  in  Press 


PLAYS  OF  THE 
WASHINGTON   SQUARE    PLAYERS 


TRIFLES        .        .        by  Susan  Glaspell 

In  the  chatter  of  two  women  about  seemingly  in 
significant  things  it  unfolds  to  the  imagination 
the  whole  story  of  a  domestic  tragedy.  While 
two  officers  of  the  law  rummage  through  a  cheer 
less  farmhouse  for  evidence  to  convict  a  wife 
suspected  of  murdering  her  husband,  the  two 
horror-stricken  women  in  the  kitchen  intuitively 
divine  the  pitiful  circumstances  which  have  goan- 
ed  an  abused  and  neglected  wife  to  the  commis 
sion  of  the  crime 35 

"One  would  go  far  to  find  such  a  play  as  'Trifles.'  " 
— Heywood  Broun. 

ANOTHER 

WAY    OUT      .      by  Lawrence  Langner 

A  clever  and  rather  interesting  satire  on  the  new 
freedom,  as  it  is  being  manifested  in  love  and 
art.  The  dialogue  is  of  the  sort  that  plays  well 
in  any  hands.  Paper  covers 35 

THE,  LAST 

STRAW  .  by  Boswortfa  Crocker 

An  honest,  hard-working  victim  of  circumstances 
has  been  charged  with  killing  a  cat  caught  in  a 
dumbwaiter,  and  convicted  in  a  police  court.  He 
"broods"  over  his  disgrace  and  the  taunts  of  his 
neighbors;  even  his  two  little  sons  have  been 
humiliated  at  school.  The  wife  tries  to  console 
him,  but  only  brings  the  matter  to  a  tragic  con 
clusion.  Paper  covers 35 

"Mr.  Crocker  has  brought  realism  from  the  depths, 

as  it  were,  in  giving  us  a  truly  human  little  play. 

He  has  a  rare  gift  of  touching  on  life  in  its  simplest 

form." — Charles  Darnton. 

LOVE  OF  ONE'S 

NEIGHBOR       .       by  Leonid  Andreyev 

A  crowd  has  gathered  to  watch  a  man  hanging 
on  a  ledge  of  rock.  Their  speculations  as  to  how 
he  got  to  his  unfortunate  position,  what  his  feel 
ings  were,  and  how  soon  he  would  fall  display 
the  types  of  tourists  and  the  stupidity  of  the 
police Boards,  .50.  Paper,  .35 


The  Little  Theatre 

Some  Notes  and  Suggestions  for 
Those  Interested  in  the  Little 
Theatre  with  an  Exhaustive 
Bibliography  of  Short  Plays. 

By  FRANK  SHAY 


This  book,  originally  intended  as  a  bibliography  oi 
short  plays  grew  in  the  making.  Certain  explana 
tory  notes  grew  into  chapters.  Other  chapters  were 
added  to  give  the  work  completeness.  The  chap 
ters  are:  Your  Little  Theatre,  Financing  the  Little 
Theatre,  Subscriptions,  Play  Selection,  Producing, 
Cast  and  Scenery,  Costumes  and  Make-up. 


Paper  covers,  fifty  cents. 

Postage  five  cents. 


Washington  Square  Book  Shop 

17  West  Eighth  Street  New   York 


